


Tattoos

by mattaretto



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattaretto/pseuds/mattaretto
Summary: Every mark that appears on your body, appears on your soulmate and vice-versa.





	1. Chapter 1

For centuries soulmates gained every single mark their significant other did. It didn't matter what it was, cut, bruise, tattoo, or drawing on skin. It appeared, healed, and faded as theirs did. It wasn't uncommon for people to be born with scars, though no one had ever been with born with as many marks as you had. 

An extensive scar on your left shoulder and countless others littering the rest of your body had left doctors and your parents flustered. Over the years, you observed more cuts and bruises form and disappear upon your skin. You were particularly worried about your soulmate, the number of cuts and bruises they received was unhealthy. As a teen, you thought that maybe they were abused. When you got older, you believed they just had a dangerous line of work. 

Sometimes, you'd try to write on your arm to get your soulmate's attention, little things such as 'hi' or simply asking how they were doing. It never seemed to catch their attention, though you were hopeful. After a particularly long day filled with meetings and pushing papers, you sat with a pen in hand and began drawing on your leg. As you progressed, you added colors and details, filling your right thigh with roses and intertwined peacock feathers. You smiled proudly, grabbing your phone and taking a picture. Once you'd finish taking the photo, you noticed the writing on your other leg. 

'What are you drawing this time?' You prayed to God they weren't annoyed and read the next line, 'Holy shit that's beautiful.' You smiled more, finally knowing your soulmate didn't mind your absent-minded doodling and intricate drawings. 

Grabbing a pen, you wrote your reply neatly beneath their writing, 'Thank you.' There was no reply after that, much to your disappointment. 

Back in the 40s, Bucky had been worried about not having a soul mate. He never got any random abrasions or bruises as other kids did, as his sisters did. As the Winter Soldier, he never questioned the random bruises or cuts; he was the Winter Soldier after all. It wasn't until after he'd abandoned HYDRA, and gone into hiding, he took notice of the little bruises and frequent paper cuts did he believe he possessed a soulmate. 

He quickly gathered that his soulmate was a doodler, based on the drawings and erratic swirls he often found on random locations of his body. He always loved to watch the dark ink and vibrant colors flourish and dance on his skin as they developed. He never did have the courage to write anything, though he was always proud to walk around with the drawings on full display. 

Bucky was relaxing in his room when he first noticed the beginning of a new drawing. He watched in awe as the dark, defining lines of a drawing began to appear, colors soon following to fill in the blank spaces. He had no clue what had possessed him, where the newfound confidence had come from, but he picked up a pen and began to write on his other leg. 'What are you drawing this time?' He hoped his curiosity didn't come off as rude and he assumed, based on the radio silence, that it had. 

Bucky sighed, watching as more colors began to stain the skin on his thigh. The colors brought to life a field of flowers of alternating colors and peacock feathers elegantly enclosed around them. This was definitely one of the more intricate drawings his soul mate had ever done, and 

he knew then that it would always be his favorite. 

'Holy shit that's beautiful.' He wrote it out quickly, praying that his soulmate would be able to read his chicken-scratch writing. A smile formed on his lips when only a minute later a neatly written 'Thank you,' appeared underneath what he had written. He wasn't able to bring himself to reply after that. 

After a long flight home, you were taking a shower and rubbing away the ink from your skin. You watched as colors ran down the drain, the colorful picture remained on your thigh though, confusing you. You began to scrub, watching as your skin became irritated but the drawing remained. You got out of the shower quickly, drying off and dressing quickly. 

You grabbed a pen, sitting down and writing on your leg. 'You need to call me right now,' you wrote, your number right underneath it. You threw your pen down and got up to get food, keeping your phone on you as you strolled through your apartment. Halfway through eating, your phone rang, an unknown number appearing on the screen. You picked it up and answered, pressing it to your ear. 

"Hello?" You asked into the device, setting down your fork.

"Hi, you, uh, wanted me to call?" He sounded so nervous, your heart clenched at the sound of the hypersensitivity in his voice. 

"Yeah, I was washing off the ink off my thigh from the drawing earlier and it wasn't coming off. So I was just wondering if you'd drawn over it or something." 

"I was wondering what the hell you were doing to turn your skin all red." He avoided the question, rather focusing on your attempt to get the ink off. 

"You are not one to talk, do you know how many bruises you get? What the hell do you do? You an FBI agent or something?" 

He paused for a second before answering, "Or something. You're really good at drawing, by the way."

"Thank you. Now back to why I had you call, why's it not coming off?" 

"You see, uhm. I- You're just so good at drawing," He began to ramble, getting nervous again. He sighed loudly, clearing his throat slightly before answering, "I got a tattoo of it." You choked on air, coughing. 

"You did what?" He began to repeat himself when you cut him off, "No, no I heard you. I'm just, I'm shocked." 

"Like I said, it was beautiful." 

"I'm not sure what to say," There was silence between both of you before you spoke again, 

"What's your name?" 

Another pause, "James."

"Y/N."

After that you and James had kept in contact, texting as often as you could. His work pulled him away for days at a time, you worried but never truly minded. You were busy yourself, your job as a photographer keeping you traveling. You were currently in Barcelona, Spain, somewhere you had visited before, but never got tired of. It was your last day there, your next stop, New York City. 

You had dreamed of visiting the city as a kid, and you couldn't be happier that it was your work that was going to be taking you there. Your boss informed you that you would be photographing the world's mightiest heroes, the Avengers. Apparently, Tony Stark had been thoroughly impressed by your work and requested you specifically. 

Landing in New York, you were immediately in awe by the beauty of the city. You were shocked to see that Mr. Stark had sent someone to pick you up, most times you simply got a cab to your hotel before meeting with the client. You found out that you would be staying at the Avenger tower, Mr. Hogan informed you that Mr. Stark wanted you to capture the humanity of the team. 

At the tower, you stared in awe and the massive building, your bag with some basic camera equipment inside. 

"Hello, Miss. (Y/L/N)," Someone greeted when you entered, though you didn't know where the voice was coming from. 

"Hello?" 

"Mr. Stark would like to meet you in the common room." The same voice said, but you were still confused. 

"I apologize, but who is speaking?" 

"My name is F.R.I.D.A.Y, I run the facility. If you could please go to the elevator." You just nodded and walked to the elevator, the door opening as you approached it. It was entirely unsettling but you said nothing, the elevator doors closing and the machine moving on its own. 

You looked around as you walked into the common room, holding the straps of your bag. A well-dressed man walked in from a hallway, smiling when he saw you. 

"You must me (Y/N), a pleasure to meet you. I love your work." The man said, holding a hand out after reaching you. You smiled in return, shaking his hand. 

"It's good to meet you Mr. Stark, I apologize for my attire but I've just been on a 10-hour flight."

"Please just call me Tony, no need for formalities. I assume Mr. Hogan informed you of the situation?" 

"Yes, he said that you would like me to capture the humanity of the team. I assume that means you would like me to photograph them doing everyday things." 

"Yes, exactly. I'll introduce you to everyone before you get settled in the room you'll be staying in. F.R.I.D.A.Y, call everyone to the common room." 

"Yes, Mr. Stark." The AI responded, and soon enough people began to filter into the room. 

"Everyone, this is (Y/N), she'll be photographing us for the next few weeks," Tony said, and everyone uttered their own form of hello. One man caught your eye, however. He had shoulder-length brown hair pulled into a bun at the base of his neck, and gorgeous blue eyes. He must have been working out because he was wearing gym shorts and no shirt, his skin shiny with sweat. 

You went wide-eyed when you saw the bit of familiar color peeking out from his gym shorts. He noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow. 

"Can I help you?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice was gruff, he sounded as if he had been through a lot. 

"I just couldn't help but notice that you seem to have a tattoo." You said, "I haven't seen anything about the Winter Soldier having a tattoo before." He didn't give you an answer, rather he just walked away. 

"Sorry about him." Captain America apologized, "I'm Steve, I can show you to where you're staying. 

Three weeks later, you had taken nearly 1,000 photos of the team interacting with each other and doing everyday tasks. Most of the team was on a mission, meaning you had some time off to yourself and explore the city. 

You had woke early, treading into the kitchen in your pajamas, knowing there wouldn't be anyone around to see you. The only two people who weren't on the mission were Bucky and Clint. Clint was out of town, however, and you knew that Bucky would most likely be in the gym. 

You took your time to cook yourself some food, humming softly to yourself. With Bucky being an assassin, you had no clue that he had entered the room until you heard a water bottle hit the floor. You jumped and turned to the noise, seeing him standing there in shock. 

"Are you alright? You look as if you seen a ghost." You watched as he moved to pick the water bottle back up, his eyes on your thigh where your tattoo was.

"I see that you have a tattoo as well." 

"Yea, something I drew that soulmate decided to get into a tattoo." You explained, shrugging slightly. He had just been working out, you could tell from his clothing - rather lack of, as he was wearing gym shorts and didn't have a shirt. He didn't say anything in response, simply lifting his right pant leg to show his tattoo. It was the exact same as yours. 

"James?" You looked at him, clearly in disbelief. 

"Hey, doll." He grinned and you couldn't help but smile. 

"Why'd you never mention you were the Winter Soldier?" You asked but didn't give him time to answer, "That explains all the stupid cuts and bruises!" You exclaimed, it all suddenly falling into place in your mind. 

"I thought it'd scare you off..." He said quietly, and you shook your head.

"Takes more than that to scare me. Breakfast?" You offered with a smile, watching as he began to smile. 

"Yeah, that sounds nice."    
  



	2. Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s mission goes south, but not before he finds out some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this part has angst

Bucky was on a mission. It was a long one. Then again, they all seemed to be long when ever he had to leave her side. There seemed to be a lot of missions lately. It was one after another, with a few days break between each one. 

He’d already been on a mission four for months. And even with his injury from the last mission, his super soldier healing had allowed him to on the next mission. Not that he wanted to. Part of him had wanted to injure himself. Just so he could spend more time with her. 

He stared down at the peacock feather tattoo that wrapped around his right ring finger. Dragging his thumb over the colorful ink, he wished he could be beside her. He’d rather be in bed beside her instead of the thin excuse of a mattress he was on now. Before her, he might have appreciated the hard mattress. But he’d gotten used to the soft one they shared. 

He looked at the time. He would have to go out soon, go out and see if he could locate the target. He wished he could just shoot the dude and get it over with. But he couldn’t, no, he had to see if he was sady like they thought. And she didn’t want him in any danger, she worried to much. 

Getting up, he trudged to the shower and started the water, stripping down and running a hand over his face. He passed by the dirtied mirror and froze. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his reflection and the new mark that adorned his skin. He figured she’d gotten another tattoo, since she usually wrote to him on her legs. 

He rubbed the mirror to see his reflection better. His eyes fixated on the blue pacifier and his eyebrows furrowed. Why would she get a tattoo of a blue pacifier. 

His eyes widened as he realized and he smiled widely. They’d been trying since they got married two years ago and hadn’t had any luck. Blue. She must already know it’s a boy. His smile grew more. A boy. He was going to have a son. They were going to have a son. 

He’d write a note after his shower. 

She waited for a response, knew that it might take some time because of the time difference. Wore shorts despite the weather, because she knew he’d write on his thigh. They always did. 

It was later in the day when she was sitting in the common room watching a movie with the others when she felt it. Something was wrong. She looked at her thigh, and didn’t see anything from him. She pulled up her sleeve and saw the bruise that had already began to form. 

Standing quickly, she pulled her hoodie over her head quickly. It wasn’t uncommon for her to do so, the team had grown used to it. She did it whenever she noticed bruises starting to form, to check to see how bad the damage was.

Everyone watched her, eyes widening as they looked at the bruises that colored her skin, the small cuts that appeared and healed quickly. She looked at Steve, who gasped when he saw her face. Her cheek was starting to turn colors and there was a small cut in the middle of it. 

As she stood there, everyone watched in shock as bruise after bruise and cut after cut showed up on her skin. Snapping out of it, everyone ran to their rooms, getting ready quicker than they ever had before. 

Five minutes later, they were in the air, travelling as fast as they could to Egypt. She had been told she couldn’t go, but she refused to stay back. They didn’t have time to argue, so she was instructed to stay on the quinjet until it was clear. 

They landed not far from the safe house where Bucky had been staying. As soon as the door opened, everyone filed out while she stayed behind with Bruce. He wouldn’t be called out unless needed. 

She listened through the comms as they went room to room, calling clear as they did. She could vaguely hear a door being kicked open. Silence followed, no one called clear, but she couldn’t hear any fighting. 

“Steve?” Nat called over the comms, breathing in sharply soon after. There was some scrambling and then more silence. Steve cleared his throat and spoke.

“We found him.” Before he could continue, she was sprinting out of the quinjet and to the safe house. As she was running she could hear orders telling Bruce not to let her off the quinjet, and Bruce saying she had already taken off. 

She wasn’t allowed to see Bucky, being stopped by Tony still in his full suit of armour. She tried her best to get by him, but she wasn’t able to. He kept blocking her no matter what she did. 

“Please, let me see him! I have to make sure he’s okay!” She pushed and pushed, doing her best to get by. Steve walked out from the small hallway, eyes distraught and shoulders slumped, “Steve, what happened? Is he okay? Is Bucky okay?” He looked down, not daring to meet her eyes and she knew what had happened. 

“No, no, no, no, no, you’re lying, you’re lying, he’s fine, he’s fine,” there was no pause in her words, only panic. Everyone just stood there, watching as she repeated herself, over and over in her panic. With a push, she got past Tony and ran by Steve before he could grab her. 

Stopping in the entry way, she fell to her knees and sobbed at the sight in front of her. 

Bucky was lying on the floor, the same cuts and bruises that littered her body on his. A red mark around his neck showed that he had been strangled, his arm crossed over his chest and hand covering the new tattoo on his rib cage.


End file.
